318. The Eye That Watches

“You have to do it right,” the voice says to me. I don’t know why it’s necessary to say that. I already intend to do it right. I’m in the middle of planting a garden, and I’m making small holes for the seedlings to occupy.

“The plants need to be properly spaced,” the voice says. Again, I already know this, which is why I’m making the holes first so that there will be enough space for all of the seedlings to grow into larger plants.

But then I reach the end of the row, and I realize there won’t be quite enough space for the last plant. I have ten seedlings, and only nine holes. Ignoring the problem, I make the last hole, with a bit less space than the others.

“That will not do,” the voice says. It will have to do, I think in response. “You have to make more space,” the voice demands. I think about this, and it feels true, but I really want to ignore it. I look around in annoyance, at the holes and then at the seedlings and then at the holes again.

Simmering with frustration, I fill in all of the holes and dig them again, this time with equal space for all ten plants. As I’m finishing, I realize that the last plant will have only slightly more space than before. There was no need to redo all of the holes. And yet, I felt I had to do it.

I had to placate the eye that watches, the eye that makes certain things are done correctly. This supervisor comments on everything I do. It tells me that I have to follow this rule and that rule, and it never leaves me alone. The problem is that the eye is also me.

I hate that I’m so responsive to its every whim. I resent that I cannot function without yielding to its incessant demands. Always this voice is with me, always it is saying that I must do better. Its criticism is constant and never ending.

I want to be free of it and its relentless rules. At least some of the time, like when I’m at home, planting a garden for myself — a thing that will impact no one but me. Why am I always forced to conform to the standards of this watchful eye?